Embrace Every Moment
by knick-knack-15
Summary: AU. Troy can't change fate. But he can still disover the gift that Sharpay needs the most from him. It's up to Troy to live each of the three days that she has to the fullest. To embrace every moment he's given. Troypay.
1. Trailer

**I can't help it. I really can't. I know I begin stories, then I leave everyone hanging, and I admit, I DO need help, but I JUST. CAN'T. STOP. Do you think there's a rehab for struggling, addicted writers anywhere?**

**Bold/narrorator**

_Italics/actions_

**They really believed that they could make it work...**

"_I don't know... are we? Are we really still in love?" Troy tears himself from the truth of the matter. He doesn't want for it to be real, but there's no way of changing fate..._

**They really wanted to believe that they still loved each other.**

_"Why are we still forcing this, Troy?" Sharpay's words are caught in her throat as a swell of tears overpower her. "We really can't go on like..." the shrill ringing of the telephone interrupts Troy and Sharpay's heated discussion._

_But they never knew that one phone call had a part in fate itself..._

**But she's suddenly gone...**

_"C'mere, you." Sharpay gives a soft smile to the tiny dog that had wandered into the middle of the street. She scoops up the puppy and holds it tight against her body._

_And she never saw the blinding white headlights until they were up close and personal..._

**...and Troy suddenly realized how much he loved her...**

_"How could I have been so stupid?" he whispers softly as he takes her cold hand, gently placing a kiss on the back of her hand. Savoring what he could, now that it was all over..._

**...how much he really needed her.**

_Troy covers his face with his hands as tears endlessly spill out._

_This was the first time he regretted something._

_And it was the first time he had felt alone._

**But what happens when he's given a second chance...**

_"Three days."_

_"What?"_

_"Three days, Troy, that's all I'm giving you."_

_"What the hell are you talking about? And who the hell are you?"_

_"Use them wisely. Find the gift that will keep her alive. Don't change her fate. Don't tell her. Just love her."_

_"Wait... hold on!" And in a brilliant flash of light, his only source was gone._

**To re-live the last three days of her life?**

_Troy groans and rolls over in his usually empty bed. But when he opens his eyes and sees a familiar face smiling softly at him, his only response was to shout._

_"Morning, sleepyhead." Sharpay giggles._

**Wishes will be made...**

_"Anything you want. Name it."_

_"Troy, you don't have to do this..." but he really did. Maybe the gift that would keep her alive was hidden somewhere in her happiness..._

**A new happiness will be developed...**

_Sharpay shrieks as a bundle of snow explodes against the comfort of her winter jacket. There in Times Square, Troy Bolton was making her the happiest woman alive..._

**And two people realize what love really is.**

_"**I am in fucking love with Sharpay Evans!**" With his hands cupped around his mouth, Troy shouts his announcement to the entire city, hoping every single person below them will hear._

_And in turn, be in love as well._

**Zac Efron**

_Troy examines the wedding ring Sharpay had placed in his hand. His anger is trapped just beneath his surface and he lets the ring drop to the floor._

**Ashley Tisdale**

_Sharpay cradle's the telephone in her hands and lets a warm smile come to her face. "Of course, I'll go find her for you. Just give me a few minutes..."_

**The clock is set back 72 hours for them in...**

_"Where are you going?" Troy quickly rolls out of bed as Sharpay pulls on her jacket. "Let me go with you." Sharpay is confused by the panic that threads his voice, but moves forward anyways._

_"Mrs. Smith's dog went missing again. I'm just going to go find her. I'll be back in ten minutes." she smiles._

_"No!" Troy answers quickly. "I mean... uh... you don't have to go. Please, Sharpay..."_

**Embrace Every Moment**

_"Make her stop!" Troy shouts into the empty atmosphere._

_"Troy, I'll be back soon." Sharpay rolls her eyes at Troy's worry._

_"You can't change her fate, Troy. You just can't..."_

**February/March 2007**

_Troy angrily pounds his fist against the door that had closed behind Sharpay._

_She was gone._

_Again._

**There's something wrong with me. I need to get my priorities straight. Though I believe that I'll finish every project I start, I need to work on my timing. :Sigh: Click that awesome purple button down there!**


	2. Relief

**Well, first off, I'd like to thank Ashley's Fool, for inspiring me. The story line IS based off of the movie "Three Days", and I DID have to sort a few things with him before proceeding. But everything's awesome now.**

**OKGo (hehe)**

He smothered his face into his pillow, hoping each one of his jagged, mangled breaths would be punishment for his hurtful words. But the only thing that filled his nostrils was her soft scent of lavender and mischief. Each one of her irresistible features suddenly played behind his closed blue eyes, causing his remorse to grow. Her clever smile turned to a frown with each of his, "I don't love you."s. Her wild flickering brown eyes would go flat with each of his cold shoulders.

He cursed himself to an eternity of misery, humiliation, anguish, for hurting her. And what pained him the most was that he made her _cry_. Her thundering sobs echoed in his mind. He suddenly had the urge to wring his shirt dry of her tears. But at the same time, he was so _angry_. At himself, at her, at the feigned relationship that was being severed before their eyes.

_:Flashback:_

_"Well, I'm so sorry that I'm not what you're looking for in a wife!" At first her voice was aggressive. It held the passion that he knew and had fallen in love with. But once turned against him, he knew he was in trouble. It always worked out this way._

_"You should be!"_

_"I'm sorry that I'm not perfect." She seemed to weaken a little bit, but he was tossed around by his own anger to even notice, the fire in her eyes dwindling with each of her statements._

_"I'm glad you can admit to that!"_

_"I'm sorry that we can't achieve dreams anymore. I'm sorry that we can't get along. I'm sorry that I'm swallowing up your life... all I can be is sorry!" Soon enough, instead of being a foot away from him, trying to destroy him with her eyes, she was pounding her delicate fists against his chest, his arms, anywhere, just to let him experience pain. _

_Almost surprised by her attack, he tightened his grip around her wrists, willing her to stop. Though she was trying her hardest to hurt him physically, the only damage that she was causing was on the inside. The fact that she was driven to punch him in the first place was enough to tear him apart. She continued to struggle in his hold. She continued to scream._

_"And I'm so sorry that you don't love me anymore!"_

_And that brought them both to a screeching halt._

_Because it was true, and neither wanted to experience neglect. There was silence as he let go over her. There were pounding hearts and spinning heads as she let her tightened fists drop back to her sides. "Oh... no..." her small whisper was slick with oncoming tears as she brought her hands to her mouth. "We're still in love. We have to be..."_

"_I don't know... are we? Are we really still in love?" he tore himself from the truth of the matter. He didn't want for it to be real, but there was no way of changing fate. Though he didn't want for it to be transformed into reality, she let the fact possess her._

_"Why are we still forcing this?" her words caught in her throat as a swell of tears overpowered her. "We really can't go on like..." the shrill ringing of the telephone interrupted their heated discussion._

_But they never knew that one phone call had a part in fate itself..._

_:End Flashback:_

Sharpay eased her bedroom door open, instantly registering the sight of Troy hugging one of their pillows tightly to his chest. Bars of moonlight cast against his steadily breathing chest, and Sharpay wiped her red eyes once more before stepping into the room. She silently reached for her jacket, her husband's eyes following her the entire time. Until he spoke. "Where are you going?" he asked simply, sitting up in bed.

Sharpay waved off the question of why he suddenly cared. "Mrs. Smith's dog went missing." she answered as she shimmied into her jacket. She turned and faced her bedroom door, almost forgetting the reason why she had come back up to their bedroom in the first place. "Oh, before I forget." she turned back around, charged toward the bed and let the anonymous object curled into her fist drop to their rumpled sheets.

Finally, she was able to turn around and never look back.

Her old wedding ring glittered in the soft moonlight. Troy examined it closely in his hand, each brilliant flash of light the diamond gave off triggering a sort of anger in his core. Soon enough, anger was trapped just beneath his surface and he let the ring drop to the floor. He buried his face in his hands muttering curses to himself.

Not curses of anger.

Or frustration.

But somehow, they were curses of a mysterious relief.

**Okay, next chapter is going to be really hardcore. I think the best part about it is that it's going to be challenging for me, but for now, you can leave me an awesome review, giving me ideas! Seriously, they are all put into consideration. Soory about this chapter's shortness. Gah! Bye!**


	3. Fate

**I am completely and utterly amazed by the response this story has gotten.**

**Really, truly.**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

With each thundering footstep against the chilled pavement of the sidewalk, her fingernails dug deeper into her palms. She clenched her fists tighter with every stiff step across the street, onto the next block. Out of anger, frustration, melancholy, and somehow...

Relief.

Somehow, she was able to project herself forward into the night without doubts. Somehow she was able to keep her shoulders relaxed and breathe evenly, despite the tangled emotions coursing through her. What to choose? What to _feel? _Though she was torn in a million different directions, what remained was the fact that she was subconsciously free. And she liked it.

She instantly began making plans for herself. First, she would pack her clothes, every shirt, sock, and pair of underwear, leaving nothing but her scent of lavender and mischief. Then, she would find a friend to crash with, someone reliable, someone that would understand what she was going through. And from there, she would gradually stand on her own two feet, _without _Troy...

She would finally be out of his hair, if he really didn't love her.

But for that one moment, before she planned her entire future, she just wanted to get the task of finding Mrs. Smith's dog out of the way. Sharpay sighed and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket, the cold evening shimmying between her arms and her torso. She proceeded to another empty street, small houses displayed at the horizon. Each window held a warm, welcoming glow in the cold wintery night, reminding Sharpay of the warmth of her own home...

That wasn't her home anymore.

The street was utterly silent, completely peaceful. And the sight of a tiny bundle of fur placed in the middle of the road made Sharpay sigh softly as she came closer. "C'mere, you." Sharpay gave a soft smile to the tiny dog that had wandered into the middle of the street. She scooped up the puppy and held it tight against her body, examining its dog tag closely.

The small brown-and-black Yorkie that tucked its nose into her arms was most definitely Mrs. Smith's, but the question was how was she going to be able to return such a cute dog? She smiled to herself, forgetting about her at-home drama just for the moment, and kissed the top of the puppy's head.

And she never saw the blinding white headlights until they were up close and personal...

An indescribable feeling overtook her abdomen as an anonymous force drove her to the ground. Pain spiking her every nerve, panic striking quickly in her mind. Rapidly, forcefully, she drew in breath, attempting to maintain consciousness. The Yorkie was no longer in her arms and she desperately grasped the pavement. She had to hold on to the night. Hold on to existence. But she was quickly slipping, sliding into a realm that was new to her.

Sharpay took in one last sharp gasp and let out one cry of anguish as screams ensued next. That same night sky that was once welcoming and adventurous was now her last glimpse of this world. And the last person she _ever _wanted to talk to came to mind.

_Troy._

She suddenly remembered her husband, their fights, their cries, their overall issues. And as Sharpay's life came to a close, he was the one image she couldn't get out of her mind.

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His eyes flew open in the darkness, an uneasy feeeling settling in his stomach. He rolled over, facing the wide-faced moon outside of his window, and for the first time since his slumber, he thought about her.

_Sharpay._

Her ring was still alone on the bedroom floor, symbolizing lost memories, and their _very _forgotten love. That same feeling of hesitance and insecurity grew. Where was she? Why hadn't she come home yet? Maybe they could talk it out, mend things once again...

That telephone ringing drew him from his thoughts once more. That same shrill ringing that had had a part in fate itself pulled him out of bed and made him stagger down the hallway as the phone continued to ring. And just as he was about to pick up the phone, it was delivered to voice mail. A shocking, confusing message bleated through the phone's answering machine:

"Hello? Please... if somebody's there..." A trembling, sobbing voice sounded. "A...a... Mr. Bolton? Please... I'm begging you... _pick up._" Troy was frozen, not only by the fear that sounded in the woman's voice, but the by the sound of sirens overpowering her cries.

Troy could only draw one word from his lips. "What?"

"I'm sorry!" she sobbed on the other end.

_"Well, I'm so sorry that I'm not what you're looking for in a wife!" _

"I... I didn't see her, and she was... please! Pick up the phone!"

_"I'm sorry that I'm not perfect." _

"Mr. Bolton... whoever's there... I'm sorry! I'm so, so, sorry..." Hysterical cries, shouts, orders flooded into Troy's ears as his life played in slow motion.

_"And I'm so sorry that you don't love me anymore!"_

"She was just standing there and... I didn't mean to... I... _please..._"

A profound haunting beep completed the message. Troy reached to the phone with a trembling hand, his heart caught in his throat, pounding into his mind, his very thoughts.

Sharpay's cell phone number was displayed on the screen. He instantly remembered his empty bed, the quiet house. She was out there somewhere, and things weren't right. _Sharpay _was the reason of his uncomfort.

In fact, she always seemed to be.

And from there, fate had finally accomplished its misson, tearing, hacking, slashing his world into a million pieces.

**Like I said.**

**Hardcore.**

**Except, I'm not sure if the last part made any sense. Those italicised phrases were lines from the previous chapter, and Troy was _supposed _to be having multiple flashbacks in those moments.**

**You know, if it didn't make any sense to you.**

**Review!**


	4. Time

**Hey.**

**Thanks for being patient with me?**

Trembling hands opened his front door, revealing the night sky. Just over the horizon brilliant flashes of blue and red overtook the rooftops. Those same sirens, shouts and orders that were once bleating over his answering machine were reaching his front steps.

As surreal as it all felt, Troy tried his hardest to grasp the concept of what was occuring. Sharpay? Somehow, something about her had wormed its way into his system, destroying his every nerve. He was on edge, so close to stumbling off. And that message, that haunting message that infected his answering machine? It tormented his mind.

He wasn't exactly sure how to feel at the moment. Part of him was so sick, his insides unsettled and caught in his throat, ready to spill across his carpet. Another was curious, confused as to what w as going on, but his knees still trembled beneath him as his phone rang again.

He closed his door, silence and darkness overtaking his home, their home. That shrill ringing that had a part in fate itself jackhammered at his mind. The nauseated part of him wanted nothing more than to shut his eyes, empty out his contents over the toilet, and pray that he would wake up from a nightmare, with her blonde hair irritatingly between his lips, feathering his chest. But his curious side let curious shaking hands reach for his telephone, their telephone.

Silence. An empty atmosphere that begged to be filled. He choked, he sputtered into that atmosphere, as if he was speaking for the first time: "H-hello?"

"Yes, is this the Bolton Residence? I'm calling on the behalf of a..."

"Sharpay."

"Yes, this is the police de..."

"Tell me she's alright. "

"I... is... is this Mr. Bolton?"

"Where is she?"

The voice on the other end sounded so strained. Concerned, almost, about his condition. The voice on the other end only listened to the words that spilled, simply flooded out of his mouth. The voice on the other end could barely get the job done due to the distraught man that so desperately needed to know what was going on. The voice on the other end wanted to say that everything was under control.

But couldn't.

"She's here, we have her."

"Is she okay?"

A sharp, pained exhale came from the voice on the other end. "We need you here as soon as possible, Mr. Bolton. Just come... please..." The voice on the other end no longer sounded professional. Only desperate.

Troy let trembling hands drop the telephone, slip on shoes, and flee.

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If these people could even fathom the emotions that coursed through him, they would have already given Troy the details as to what was wrong with his wife. If these people, hastening around in paper uniforms, emotionless expressions across their features, knew what it was like to be the victim, he would have been holding her hand by now, kissing it one million times.

What time was it? Troy ran a hand through his coarse hair, slumped in his chair, the lack of sleep trapped in his pupils. He wanted her right now, he needed her right now...

"Mr. Bolton...?" Doors opened another monotone face appearing under the faulty lighting. But it was the eyes that grabbed Troy's attention and made him leap out of his seat. He wanted so desperately to freeze time, knowing that these next words would determine his relief or his destruction. "Earlier this evening, Sharpay was in an accident..."

Troy stuffed his trembling hands into his pockets as the doctor's words seemed to enter one ear and leave the next. The experience was so out-of-body, he felt as if he was another person entirely, witnessing the pain from another point of view. "She was hit by a car a few blocks from her home. She wasn't DOA, but we're losing her so quickly. She's not responding to anything..."

Time stopped for Troy, just as he had pleased. He felt torched internally, like a destructive fire had ignited, and was now devouring everything. Leaving nothing but ash.

And this hollow feeling that overtook him.

With a muted mind and a frozen body, Troy was gently taken by the elbow. Looming doors led the way to misery. His breath caught as he was escorted through numerous corridors, closed doors, but the screams, the cries were what eroded Troy. This was too much to take in. It was too much to swallow, knowing that just hours before, his wife was alive. They may have been in a heated argument, but she was a living, breathing person nonetheless. But... _now?_

Her door was open.

The sickening bright institutional lighting displayed Sharpay across the chilled room. Kissed with bruises, gauze invested around her red-stained forehead, Troy's wife looked like her life had already been stolen. He took in a shaky breath, his feet willing him to go no further. A consecutive thought raced through his mind as he leaned against the doorframe for support: this was all his fault. But his conclusion was interrupted by the irritating beep of the monitor stationed next to her bed.

His feet shuffled against the tiling of the hospital floor to the beat of the fateful green line that lifted and plummeted, broadcasting whether she was alive or not. She was very much alive, he could tell, as he finally approached her bedside and took her hand.

It was still warm.

It was a deadly white color, and her knuckles were a sickening yellow, but it was still so warm, so comforting.

"Hey," he painfully croaked, memorizing the blank expression across her features. She didn't respond, _couldn't _respond. "I don't know what to say... other than... this is all my fault." his throat locked in a dangerous tremor. She was unmoving, unalive. "How could I have been so stupid?" he whispered softly as he placed a kiss on the back of her hand, savoring what he could, now that it was all over...

Suddenly, that same irritating beep transformed into a penetrating wail, driving nurses and doctors into the room, who whisked him out of the way. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bolton." a nurse's eyes were apologetic as she closed Sharpay's door in his face, leaving him there to tremble, to eat away at himself. It was all still so difficult for him to grasp, he wished that he would soon wake up to the sound of angelic singing in the shower...

Silence.

It was as if the entire hospital floor was dead. No monitor, no screams or cries, no tangled conversations of medications and patients.

Troy's hand cautiously reached for the doorknob, his face flushed of color, his wild heartbeat pounding into his ears. The door cracked open, giving way to the defeated looks of Sharpay's doctors, and one soft voice:

"Time of death, 11:33 PM."

Troy couldn't control the heart-borken cry that escaped his body. He couldn't control the way he broke down, how his muscles seemed to melt, how his heart seemed to stop, how his blood seemed to freeze. He was barely conscious of the way he clung to the doorframe in fears of collapsing, but he was very aware of every single one of his thoughts. How could this be happening? Why hadn't he stopped her from leaving in the first place?

The door opened again, welcoming him in to say his last goodbyes, but he felt that being in the same room as her ever again would make him die as well. But... at least they'd be together again...

Another thought came to mind.

Run.

And he did.

He did.

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The night that had once seemed like an open opportunity to mend everything was now dark. Desolate. Abandoned. His phone rang to no end and he guessed it was the local hospital or the police station demanding information on his wife. Or an explanation of why he had ambled out of the hospital the way he had.

Maybe because he couldn't stand to see her.

Maybe because seeing it would make it true and would kill him inside.

Maybe because he didn't want anyone to see him, the way he was now, helplessly slouched in a chair, bars of moonlight being the only source of light to the room, his first tears ever endlessly stumbling down his cheeks.

This was the first time regretting something.

And it was the first time he had felt alone.

**Wow, must suck for you.**

**Oh, yeah, did anyone see Zac Efron kiss NIKKI (love it) Blonksy on Much On Demand?**

**Funniest.**

**Shit.**

**Ever.**

**The best part? When he actually said, "Oh, man, I'm in trouble." Hell yes, you're in trouble. Because you tried to open-mouth the damn girl. (whose name is Nikki, ...coincidentally?)**


	5. Everything

**HEY, YOU WITH THE FACE!**

**THIS CHAPTER IS MUY IMPORTANTE AND NEEDS TO BE READ METICULOUSLY.**

**comprende?**

The sun was merciless against his eyes. He tossed once more, catching her scent of lavender and mischief, and it almost all seemed like a dream. Until he opened his eyes. The sheets that _she _had chosen were tangled around his legs. The curtains that _she _had fussed over displayed the morning sun. But the bed was so empty.

Her spot next to him was so vacant and abandoned, it made his heart churn and his head pound. Troy uneasily ran a hand through his disheveled bed head as the telephone rang from the hallway outside of the room. He groaned as he rolled out of bed, hesitant to leave the comfort of what he once knew, and slumped down the empty corridor, to the device that had been delivering several pieces of bad news.

"Hello?" his voice was coarse and unwelcoming to whoever had called him. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready to experience loneliness.

"How's my Troy doing?" It was so difficult to hear his mother's concerned voice. When he didn't answer, she continued. He had been this way for six days, she noticed. Six days since it all happened, six days since his life ended. "Troy... you know what today is... don't you?"

He knew. He knew this day would have to come sooner or later. He knew that he was going to have to face all of those people. It had been six days since he had tasted sunlight, and today of all days, he was being reintroduced. "I'll be over within the hour and we'll get you ready. Troy... this is going to be hard but..."

He _knew_, dammit. He hated being this way: helpless. But at the same time, it took all of his strength and all of his mother's strength to keep him from crying again. "Troy... you know how much I love you, right?"

He knew. But she could tell him a million times, over, yet there would still be a void that could only be filled with blonde hair, lavender, and mischief.

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_The iciness seeped into the back of his jeans. It soaked her hair and captured both bodies in goosebumps. But they still sprawled across the icy snow, the curtain of night stretched across their eyes. The softest of flakes slipped out of the blank void, dusting their lashes and freezer burning their ears. But they still stayed there, thinking of what was supposed to come next._

_"I wonder how much trouble we're going to get into for this?" she spoke up first, her warm breath casting a cloud into the atmosphere. A blinking airplane flew overhead, gliding over New York's skyscrapers and into the night._

_"Tons." he grinned. But it had all become worth it. He wanted to remember today. Remember everything that had taken place three days prior as to what they were doing that very moment. Remember what he was about to do next. He rolled onto his stomach, snow caking his back and clouding onto Sharpay._

_"We're such rebels." she giggled to the sky that looked so adventurous. "My dad's going to kill me when we get back to Albuquerque. My mother's going to be so disappointed and they're going to punish me into the next century..." He examined his girlfriend closely, her hazel eyes taking in the night. Her blonde hair was damp with snow. Her cheeks were rosy, and the lips that she nervously applied lip gloss to every five minutes were in dire need of a kiss._

_"...though there isn't much they can do. We live on our own now. But running away?..."_

_"Marry me."_

_Her focused chocolate eyes tore away from the sky. She sharply sat upright her facial expression giving way to every thought that reeled in her mind. "Wh-what?" was all she could sputter. She saw the crazed grin on his face and she saw his cheeks displaying a pink color, and she was still utterly shocked. "What did you just say?"_

_What _had _he just said?_

_He had proposed. Maybe it had been the exhilaration of escaping. Or maybe it had just been the way she looked under the snow. But the words and emotions that had accumulated in Troy Bolton's throat had escaped. "Marry. Me. Sharpay."_

_"I-I..." though a look of concern and confusion were etched across her features, a certainty burned in her eyes. Troy drew to his knees, snow soaking through the denim of his jeans and right to the bone. But feeling the way Sharpay launched herself into his arms initiated a feeling of warmth that rolled through him, from the tips of his frostbitten ears to the toes that were numb. "Yes. Yes. I. Will marryou." she said her words with such a purpose, like she had been practicing for ages._

_Troy's stomach rocketed and the snow that sprayed out of the midnight came heavier. But not even the heaviest of snowstorms in Central Park in New York could keep them from kissing the way they did. They claimed to be so ready._

_So young._

_So in love._

_:End Flashback:_

His nervous fingers curled over the splintering wood of the podium. A sea of faces watched. Just watched him. Did they not see how _hard _this was for him? Could they not see he was about to bear his _soul?_ And all they could do was stare, to poke him to do something other than stare back... "My wife..." he began, but cleared his throat, etching away his old words and starting new. "Sharpay was..."

Was what? He looked to the crumpled note cards he held in his fist and realized that they were of no use. Written words were not enough. A _speech _would never suffice.

Her mother and father sat in the front row of the miserable funeral home, weary hands wrapped around each other, protecting one another from the truth. His mother and father sat in the back, weak smiles, weak spirits. What did they all _want _from him?

He uncurled his fingers from the podium. He stuffed his note cards in the pockets of his proper trousers. He stepped away from the confessing microphone and he finished.

"My wife. Sharpay was. My. Everything."

Then he promptly bumbled off of the stage and went somewhere.

Anywhere that wasn't there.

Blades of grass nipped at the back of his ears. Dirt stained the back of his best jacket, but he still had deposited himself there, tired of the tears that awaited him back inside of the church. Eulogy after eulogy, apology after apology. Enough was enough.

The sky was the milkiest he had ever experienced. As grey as winter, but the it never threatened even the smallest snowflake. He wanted to be somewhere adventurous. With Sharpay. He wanted to go back to New York in Central Park in that place behind that tree where the snow fell. Troy tried his hardest to recreate the memory in his mind. The ice. The plane. The skyscrapers. Sharpay...

Grass. The grey, clear sky. And absolutely no Sharpay at all.

He still felt her hand in his. He remembered the way they were before the arguments, and he wondered where things had taken a turn for the worse. The rose he had placed over her grave was white. The song he whispered to her was _Don't Cry For Me, Argentina_. Her favorites.

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_Congratulations, Troy, _he told himself. _You managed to make it through the most difficult day of your life._

But the celebration was small compared to the big picture.

Sharpay was _stolen _from him and the same questions of 'What If' tormented his mind: What if they had been able to work it out? What if he _hadn't _made her cry for so many years, or if she _hadn't _returned her wedding ring and if they _hadn't _felt such a relief from being liberated?

Troy slumped in the living room chair, bars of moonlight rising onto his lonely chest, the only source of light in the entire house. What a waste of life, he realized. They had bickered and barred themselves from each other, even after promising everlasting love. But finally, there were no do-overs. It was reality this time. And Sharpay had been erased.

The phone.

It rang.

The shrill ringing of the telephone seemed to grow louder and swallow up his atmosphere. He needed to answer it. As much as it pained him to move, he slowly shuffled to the entry hallway, remembering the same way he had shambled to Sharpay's side at the hospital. The telephone sat idle, waiting to be answered, and just as his weary hands reached for it, his eyes were caught on the front door.

Was it a figure of the night? His own imagination? Or was there really the mysterious silhouette of a man in his foyer? But it was determined to be reality when this shadow advanced toward him. Troy snatched for the ringing telephone in hopes of dialing 911 before he joined Sharpay against his will...

Only to realize that it was no longer ringing.

In fact, he realized that the telephone was no longer there.

**Clifffffffffy.**

**Can you handle it?**

**No?**

**Understood.**

**Review.**


	6. Light

**Hello. Thanks for all of your reviews.**

**You're just really cool.**

**A supa-long chapter just for all you kool kidz.**

Troy's hands instinctively balled in defensive fists. There was a man there, Troy could _feel _it. His presence was overwhelming, almost..._supernatural_ and Troy immediately swung at the darkness.

His fist made contact with nothing and his frantic nerves twitched in an anticipating confusion. There was a man there, Troy could _see _it, and his shadowed form stood unmoving a foot away from a wired Troy. He swung again and air caressed his knuckles.

He blinked.

Empty.

He gulped and blinked again.

_Man_.

There was a _man _there.

"H-hel- can I... what...are... _police!_" Troy's words were a jumbled mess spilling out of his mouth. The air was so still and the night was so frozen and the shadows that painted an intricate silhouette played with his mind. What was going on? Was there any logical explanation as to why there was a man standing inside of his house? Where was the damn phone?

"Troy," the midnight broad shoulders and supernatural bleakness said. Troy shrunk away and the figment of his imagination drew closer. _It knew his name! _Along with his advance, he brought a light that had no source. It came spiraling from beneath his feet and brilliantly illuminated him.

For a moment, Troy knew he was experiencing a sect of heaven, sliced from its home and delivered to his living room. Cool breeze crept up the torso of his shirt and he had to squint to see anything in the magnificent light. There was a man swimming in the middle of the utopia. The same man Troy had attempted to punch.

"W-who _are you?_" Troy's normal word vomit seemed to slush together into a coherent sentence. He found himself shouting his words because they were lost in the frantic roaring that would come with such a supernatural light.

And somewhere, maybe in the back of his mind, or written across the sun before him, a name came as a ghost. A dead whisper. A silent prayer: _Micah._

"Three days."

"What?"

"Three days, Troy. That's all I'm giving you."

Troy brought a hand to shield his eyes. He felt as though he wasn't living. Like he was being served an experience as a heavenly being and that he would wake up soon. But it was so real. It felt so _real._ Troy attempted to make sense of the words Micah spoke, but his conscience swam with nothing. Nothing but radiance and the roaring glow and blonde hair and lavender and mischief...

"What the hell are you talking about? And who the hell _are _you?" Micah. He knew that. He was Micah and he knew it without words or comprehension. Micah was speaking about Sharpay. He _had _to be. She was all that mattered to Troy.

"Use them wisely," Micah said. "Find the gift that will keep her alive. Don't change her fate. Don't tell her. Just love her."

Redemption.

Redemption- a second chance.

Troy Bolton felt redemption rise through his chest and a smile rise to his face. Something good was going to happen. But squinting made his eyes grew weary and his house ablaze made his muscles weak. He was suddenly falling without control, stumbling back into a harsh reality with a suspenseful new beginning.

"Wait... hold on!" Troy shouted in one last attempt to understand. But with the mighty flutter of wings and in a brilliant flash of light, his only source was gone.

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His body erupted in shivers, the earth shaking, the world revolving beneath his still, still, cold self. Reality gathered into a gushing wave, crashing over what was left of him, dragging him along the sandy remains of a dream. _Sharpayandthoseangelwingsandthelight..._

_The light..._

The light.

"The light," he growled, unconsciously throwing his flimsy hand over his eyes. The garish brightness burned his eyelids and he wanted nothing more than to tuck his head under the cashmere and forget, forget, forget.

"Sorry," a whisper told his ear. A whisper, a giggle, a satisfying swish. Darkness. His lids were comforted once again, hidden by cashmere. He forgot, forgot, forgot. "Good morning, sleepyhead." a whisper informed his ear. The darkness pressed against his cheek before beginning a tickling line along his jaw. He mumbled something incoherent.

The cloud cast over his conscience had a familiar shape-curves that his hands already knew, a voice that his mind had already memorized. He tightened his eyes, trying to remember, remember, remember. His mouth opened in a wide yawn. "Good morning, Sharpay," he said, before tossing his brick body to the side.

The words were gone before he realized he had said them. _Sharpay_. A name he hadn't heard in what seemed like ages. The light. It was so _real_... He scrambled into awareness, jolting upward, awaking every single one of his nerves. His head reeled to his right-the expanse of his bedroom. His head reeled to his left-

"Sharpay," he said, his voice a haunting whisper, an untold secret.

She gave a weak smile, unfolding their blankets from her body and scratching her messy blonde head. The morning sun illuminated her golden hair and pasty t-shirt. Troy saw heaven for a moment again. Eyes bleary and face twisted in a sleepy grimace, she had to have come from a dream, Troy decided. "Sorry I turned the lights on," she said. "but it's time to wake up."

Troy's nose wrinkled in confusion but utter happiness. "How are you... didn't you...? And Micah said..."

Sharpay gave a perplexed chuckle. "Micah?" she sat up and ran an outstretched hand through Troy's disheveled hair. "_Some_one had an interesting dream last night." She littered the base of his neck with morning kisses. That kiss. It was the _darkness' _kiss.

"A dream," he uttered. Yes.

No.

Yes?

But it had all been so vivid- _too _vivid. The wide faced moon was still suspended in his eyes. The way her dying hand felt in his still burned his palm. And _Micah_... the name had lined his conscience for an eternity. His rules: _Three days. Find her gift of life in three days_...

But did it really matter then? He concluded no. Just as Sharpay crawled over his lap to reach her destination of the bathroom, he snatched at her waist, pulling her back into bed. "Troy, darling, there is breakfast to be made and jobs to be done," she giggled.

"I don't care," he muttered, burying Sharpay under himself, bruising her with a desperate kiss. Her mouth moved against his and her hands found his lower back and he suddenly just didn't _care_. She had been dead in his mind for forever but now she was back and she was kissing him and everything else just seemed so insignificant.

She twisted her mouth away from his, her chest rising and falling in a deep breath underneath him. "As enjoyable as this is, I'm really hungry, and you need to brush your teeth-"

"Just shut up and let me kiss you," he snapped playfully. Just as Troy pressed another forgotten kiss to her mouth, she began to wriggle underneath him, pressing both of her hands against his face and mouth in a flirtatious, childish way. "You know you want it!" he urged her, taking her by the wrists and pinning her hands above her head.

"Stop violating me!" she squealed, a mass of blonde bunching around her flawless face. He had rediscovered her laugh, her smile. How could all of it had been a dream? The argument, the crash, her death, her funeral. Each event painted a colorful picture of itself in his mind. _Micah _and the chocolate wrinkles that surrounded his unearthly smile. The judgment in his raven eyes. Had it been reality?

"Troy?" Sharpay lightly rapped her knuckles against his temple to get his attention. He blinked, coming back to terms with himself. "You're severely crushing my ovaries." he placed one more wanted kiss on her bottom lip before rolling his weight off of her and falling onto the bed on his back. He just didn't know. He just didn't _know_. "Aren't you coming?" he heard his wife giggle and whipped his head towards the bathroom door.

"Uh..." her delicate hand held the door knob, waiting for his answer. One of his old t-shirts that she wore flounced around her thighs and he gulped. Troy scrambled out of bed, deciding to let his unrelenting thoughts roll off his shoulders. He followed Sharpay into the bathroom.

But as he turned to close the door, an uncertainty rose into his throat and choked him.

There, standing where he had once been stood... _him_.

With his supernatural features. Heavenly smile and the eyes of judgment. _Micah_.

A name ghosted itself in his mind and the rest of his surroundings hazed away. Two words left Micah's mouth that confirmed that it had all been a reality.

Two words let him know that Sharpay really _had _died.

Two words informed him that their time was limited. That her time on earth was in his hands.

"Troy, are you coming?" Sharpay's teasing giggle was almost drowned out by the sound of the patter of shower water on tiles. Troy blinked deeply and looked back into his room.

Empty.

A trembling hand shut the door, the heat of the running water clouding his lungs. Two words determined his everything.

_Three days._

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Steam billowed out of the open bathroom door and Troy slumped out. His mind was in a state of pleasurable shock at the things he had seen and the things that had been done inside of that bathroom. Despite the pure euphoria the morning had been, the chilling image of Micah standing in the room pushed all of his positive thoughts to the back of his mind.

This was real, Troy had to keep reminding himself.

He watched his wife's reflection in the bedroom's mirror as she twisted her hair into a damp, stringy blonde plait. She smiled. "What're you thinking about?" There was a familiar, lively glint in her eyes. A shining that reminded him once more: This was real.

He shook his head in assurance before ducking into the closet to change. "Not much," he said. _Despite the fact that just last night, you were buried in a cemetery, and you've temporarily been injected back into my life... _"Life lately has just been..." he shuffled around in search of the correct word.

"What? Crazy? Weird?" Sharpay poked her wet head into the closet.

_Nonexistent_, he thought. Clumsy hands rifled through his collection of shirts on his rack, hanging according to color. After Sharpay had died, he distinctly remembered the wardrobe slowly turning into an explosion of the rainbow. But everything was right back in its place. Heels lined the floor, dresses tucked away for special occasion.

"Troy?" a pair of warm arms wrapped around his torso and electricity jumped from her body to his. He found himself swimming his way out of his conscience again, fighting between his confused dream and reality.

And _Micah..._

"Life's just been..." he spluttered again at the feel of her hands tracing the definition of his abdomen. _What? Crazy? Weird? Nonexistent? All of the above? _"A dream," he said.

A dream.

Yes?

No.

"Speaking of dreams," she started before giving a small giggle. That giggle. It was the _darkness' _giggle. It was the giggle that had sacrificed him to the sun, it was the giggle that made him feel more alive than ever before. This was real. _This was real_. "I had the weirdest dream last night. Something about Mrs. Smith's dog..."

"_What?_" His words came before his actions. Something that had buried him in this catastrophe in the first place. Sharpay unwrapped her arms from his torso and escaped back into the bedroom. "What about a dream? What about Mrs. Smith's dog?" Were things finally going to make sense? Were the stars going to align, was the puzzle going to solve itself, was he going to know? His feet came before his coordination. Something that resulted in his towel dropping around his ankles and his stumbling back into the bedroom.

"Well, _gosh,_ Troy, have a cow," Sharpay taunted. "It wasn't _that _exciting. I just dreamed that Mrs. Smith's Yorkie stole my wallet..."

What had he been _thinking? _Did he think Fate was going to make this _easy _for him? He had been put in this place for a reason. Time to man up and figure it out. _This was real._

"I'm sorry my dream wasn't as exciting as you thought it was going to be." Her bottom lip tucked over her upper one in a pathetic pout. "Can I make it up to you?" her frown melted away into a mischievous smile.

It was then that Troy noticed his embarrassing exposure, his towel at his ankles, thanks to the words before actions and the feet before coordination.

Nevertheless, Troy found himself in a cloak of darkness again. It rained kisses and giggles caught the breeze underneath their cashmere blankets. They took each other to eternity, tumbling over clouds, dancing in the orange-violet that painted heaven. Climbing. Faster. It became a desperate attempt to jump to infinity and even beyond those boundaries of possible.

A few soft mews. Verbal ecstasy. Hands straightening damp hair, undiscovered crevices.

Then rapture. Then the tickling of angel wings and lavender and mischief.

"Troy..." the way she whispered his name. In a breathless want. It was his epiphany. He realized that as much as he loved drinking in time with her, if he wanted her to stay in his arms forever, he had to create a plan. As they came down from their astrological high, Troy pulled his wife into his arms and she sighed soundly against his neck.

Now, _what _had _Micah _(even the sound of his name ignited Troy's skin in goosebumps) said? A gift. Three days to find the gift of life No telling her. No changing her fate. Love her in every way possible.

He figured this gift wouldn't be found in Tiffany's and sure as hell couldn't be wrapped in paper. He figured it was beyond a simple smile or a gesture of love. He figured this gift was more than driving a pleasure into her that no other man could.

"And dammit, we _just _got out of the shower!" She giggled. That giggle.

He figured he figured nothing. He had no clue what he was looking for, or even where to _begin_. All he could do was start at number one and guess and hopefully get somewhere. Troy looked up to her, their noses only a few centimeters apart. Wavy shower-wet hair framed her face and her facial features highlighted her uncontainable _happiness_...

Realization hit him fast as lightning.

"Sharpay," he suddenly said. "Anything you want. Name it." A little bold. A little _whatever. _Whatever it takes to keep her alive... he watched as her eyes widened.

"W-Where is this coming from? Troy, you don't have to do this." But he did. Maybe the gift that would keep her alive was hidden somewhere in her _happiness. _

"Come on, Shar. Anything you want to do. Anywhere you want to go. _Tell me. _Now," he pushed.

"Don't you have meetings to go to? People to impress?" Sharpay peeled her slick body away from his and crawled out of bed

"Fuck it, Shar," he said. "It want to belong to you today. I want to belong to you for the next _three days_. Just you and me. No distractions."

"This is so sudden, I-I... well..." Sharpay succumbed quickly. "I've always wanted to go back to New York."

The ice and the snow and the plane and the proposal came flying back, re-energizing his boneless body to fly out of bed and draw her back into his arms. Troy pressed a kiss to Sharpay's mouth before bounding out of the bedroom. "Start packing!" he called over his shoulder.

"_What?!_" she shouted after him. "_Today? _What are you thinking? Troy Bolton, you are being very unreasonable!"

He's thinking that he needs to move fast. And no, he's being the husband Sharpay has always wanted him to be.

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